The King Who Refused to Die

by Zecharia Sitchin

Now the woman obeyed. She had barely finished removing the heavy bolt when Gilgamesh pushed the door open. He burst in and quickly closed the door behind him. The woman was holding an oil lamp. Recognizing the king, she bowed to the ground.

  “Is Enkidu here?” Gilgamesh demanded to know. “Since he has not been seen in the palace or elsewhere, he must be here . . .”

  The woman got up but her body was still bent in a semi-bow. There was a wide grin on her beautiful face.

  “Salgigti, you witch!” Gilgamesh said, laughing. “Ever since you met him on the steppe and let him taste a woman’s loins, he has come back to this place as though it was his home. Is the unsatiated one here?”

  “Upstairs,” Salgigti answered.

  In the manner of most two-story houses, this one too was divided into a series of rooms facing a squarish center courtyard—the ground floor rooms being devoted to household functions, the upper rooms for sleeping or nonmenial chores.

  The upper floor was reachable by a stairway that led to a wooden balcony that ran along the inner perimeter of the upper rooms. A wooden roof, thatched with palm branches, protruded sufficiently to provide the balcony with shade; the central courtyard was open to the skies.

  Gilgamesh grabbed the oil lamp from Salgigti and quickly reached and mounted the stairs. The doorways on the upper floor were partitioned with hanging strings of beads, and Gilgamesh pushed these aside to peek into the rooms as he passed by them. In the first ones he saw sleeping women, but in the larger corner room he saw Enkidu, sprawled on a large mattress between two young women. His short, stout body looked funny between the two heavy, large women he had chosen as his companions for the night. He was fast asleep, the long curls of his hair half hiding his face.

  “Wake up, Enkidu,” Gilgamesh said, touching his friend.

  Enkidu was awake in an instant, recognizing Gilgamesh. He turned to lie on his back and raised his hand in greeting. His stirrings awakened the two women, but he embraced them tightly and they could not move.

  “It’s part of my schooling,” he said with a laugh. “The city Elders think that sleeping with the harlots will strengthen the human in me . . .”

  “It’s no time for pleasantries,” Gilgamesh said. “We have matters to discuss.”

  Enkidu let go of the women. “Be gone,” he told them, and they hurried out. He sat up. “Your coming here at this time of night bodes ill,” he said.

  “Indeed. We must leave Erech, at once!”

  “Leave Erech? In the middle of the night? I do not understand . . .”

  “It is a matter of life and death,” said Gilgamesh, and he quickly told his comrade the gist of the recent happenings. “‘Go to Sippar and take Enkidu with you,’ my mother, Ninsun, said. ‘Seek the protection of Utu, out of Ishtar’s reach,’ she said, ‘and ask thy godfather for help to reach the Landing Place in the Cedar Forest!’” Gilgamesh concluded.

  Enkidu shook his head in disbelief, his long curls moving like living waves. “This whole thing sounds more like a bad dream than a real happening,” he said, “and to escape from Erech is not the best solution either. ‘Go to Sippar,’ she said! To journey without escort is a most risky adventure, and to enter the Cedar Forest is certain death, Gilgamesh!”

  He arose and put his heavy arm around the king’s shoulders. “Is it your heart’s fear that carried you away? Come, let me accompany you up the hill to the temple, for daybreak is near. Stand at the doorway of the Queen of Heaven, divine Ishtar. Offer her the Tablet of Destinies in sacrifice, pray and make amends. Then seek not her judgment but that of the Seven Who Judge. And, believe me, you will be spared!”

  “Not being a mortal, you don’t understand what’s in my heart,” Gilgamesh said. “My fate has been called, and I must answer the call! The die is cast, Enkidu. To scale Heaven or to die attempting, that alone is the choice. . . . Are you coming with me, or as a coward, prefer to stay behind?”

  “Gilgamesh,” Enkidu said. “You well know that of the death of mortals I have no fear. He who created me, the Lord Enki, made me a man in appearance but a god in endurance. My bones are as bronze, my sinews as copper, blood have I none. Though short of stature, the strength of ten men I have! With my hand I shatter doorposts, with my foot I tumble walls, with my knee I subdue the bull. No, Gilgamesh, it is not for myself I fear, it is for you! For that which you might achieve is in doubt, but that which you’d lose is surely certain.”

  “A worthy speech,” Gilgamesh replied, “but without conclusion. Are you coming with me or shall I journey by myself?”

  Enkidu contemplated his friend the king, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fate has indeed overwhelmed you,” he said, “and there’s no persuading. . . . I shall go with you, my friend.”

  “I knew I could rely on you!” Gilgamesh said and hugged his comrade. “Now, what is the way to our destination and how do we get there?”

  “The way I know, how we get there we shall find out,” Enkidu said. “Come, let’s start our preparations.”

  Making sure they did not awaken the other women, the comrades went down to the courtyard. Salgigti appeared there even before Enkidu could summon her.

  “Salgigti,” he said, “have your pleasure girls had strangers from afar come, calling on them these past few days?”

  “Yes,” Salgigti said. “Unable to depart during the festival days until this coming morrow, many have spent their time and money here.”

  “Good, good,” Enkidu said. “Were they all sailors or ass drivers, or was there among them a merchant or a caravan master?”

  “Some were and some weren’t. . . . We ask no questions.”

  “Oh, don’t be so virtuous, Salgigti,” Enkidu said and smacked her on her behind, chuckling. “Perchance someone paid better than the others?”

  “Most lavish has been Adadel, the Amorite merchant. He has traded in Erech honey and date wine from the Westland and is carrying wool and grains back to Mari.”

  “Is his a caravan?”

  “No, he is captain of a boat, one equipped with sails, he was boasting to the girls. . . . A most generous patron, indeed he has been!” Salgigti said with some sorrow. “He’s sailing on the morrow.”

  “A perfect destination!” Enkidu whispered to Gilgamesh. His eye caught in the shadows the sight of the two women who had been his nightmates, straining to hear the conversation. “Let the two women who were with me prepare two waterskins filled with water,” he said to Salgigti, “and two cloth bags filled with bread and cheese and some dates for sweetness.”

  Salgigti motioned to the women, and as they approached she instructed them to do what Enkidu requested.

  “Where do you keep discarded clothing?” Enkidu asked Salgigti. “The garments the men forget behind?”

  She led them to one of the ground floor rooms, where such clothing was piled up in a corner.

  “Let’s change into some of these,” Enkidu said to Gilgamesh.

  “But they are worn-out and dirty!” Gilgamesh protested.

  “And thereby perfectly befitting,” Enkidu retorted, and began to undress. Catching on, Gilgamesh followed suit, making sure to transfer the dagger he always carried with him to his new robe.

  “What does Adadel’s boat look like?” Enkidu asked Salgigti.

  She offered little information besides repeating that it had sails.

  “We will find it,” Enkidu assured Gilgamesh.

  From a coin pouch, which he kept as he changed clothes, Enkidu took out and handed Salgigti a silver shekel. She could see the bright metal shine in the light of the oil lamp she was holding up, and bowed her head in gratitude.

  “I am at the king’s service,” she told him.

  “Moreover,” Enkidu said, “if we do not return by the Spring Festival, you can also sell our clothing. But until then, not a word of these matters you or your women must utter, or the Lord Enki, my creator, shall strike all of you down wherever you might be!”

  Salgigti nodded her head. “So it shall be, maste
r Enkidu.”

  He hugged her and kissed her broad mouth. “Take care of my women!” he said to her. Then, on second thought, he went and embraced the two women too. “There’s a full shekel of silver for each of you when I come back!” he promised.

  “Come, let’s go!” Gilgamesh said impatiently. “I still have to have words with Niglugal, and say good-bye to my son . . .”

  “And have the whole city awake by the time you’re ready to leave?” Enkidu interjected. “If you go back to the palace you’ll never leave, for the outcry over the handiwork of Anu will be spread by then!”

  “Adadel sails soon after sunrise,” Salgigti told them, bowing her head.

  Gilgamesh looked about him. The night’s darkness was indeed giving way to the encroaching dawn. Enkidu was holding the bags with their provisions. Salgigti stood silently, her head still slightly bowed. He could see the two women who had helped with the provisions huddling in a corner of the courtyard. He looked up to the upper floor. In a short while, he knew, the other women would be up and the place would swarm with gossiping females.

  He broke out in a nervous laughter. “It’s a joke, the funniest and bitterest of my life!” he said. “Here I stand as a thief in the night in a brothel, called upon to make up my mind . . . to choose between kingship and life, between the past and the future. . . . Is this, Enkidu, the way it has been ordained?”

  Enkidu did not answer.

  “Open the door, pleasure woman,” Gilgamesh said to Salgigti, “and let me face my fate.”

  * * *

  In his bedchamber, Enkullab the High Priest was awakened from a restless and dream-filled sleep by his servant-priest. He awoke with a startle and was angry.

  “The chief of the guard-priests must speak to you at once,” the servant said. “It is a matter of the greatest urgency, he said.”

  “It could not wait for daybreak?”

  “He said the High Priest must be informed at once.”

  “Give me my robe and let him in, then,” Enkullab told him. Moments later the servant, holding a large oil lamp, ushered in the chief of the guard-priests, a tall and stout man, his garb distinguished by the leather belt girding it.

  “What is it that you deemed worthy of robbing me of precious sleep?” Enkullab asked sternly, but without anger.

  “Holy Father,” the chief of the priest-guards said, “an omen, the handiwork of Anu, has come down from the Heavens . . .” He bowed his head as he stopped speaking.

  “Yes, yes, don’t stop!” Enkullab cried out.

  “It appeared in the skies as a falling star, radiating brightness. It is a long black artifact, its body smooth as a snake’s, its head like a fish’s with fins, its hiss like that of a serpent . . .”

  “The handiwork of Anu?”

  “It has come from the Heavens, and it’s not a mortal’s handiwork, Holy Father.”

  “The gods be praised!” Enkullab called out. “My prayers have been answered! Tell me more, all of it!”

  “It appeared, as I said, as a falling star. . . . As it neared the Earth, it appeared to be destined toward the Sacred Precinct. But then . . . then it seemed to be headed toward the king’s palace.”

  “It was I who had prayed for an omen!” Enkullab shouted.

  “Holy Father, the handiwork of Anu touched the Earth northward, imbedding itself in the bank of the old canal.”

  “Go on,” Enkullab told him.

  “It was seen streaking down by priests upon the precinct’s ramparts. A group rushed there, toward the falling place. When they arrived, there already was a crowd, and soldiers . . . and the king.”

  “The king, Gilgamesh, was already there?”

  “Yes, Holy Father. The handiwork of Anu was changing colors, hissing and turning like a celestial serpent. Gilgamesh, the king, alone had the courage to touch it and wrestle it. Then the priests, reciting the appropriate hymns for divine protection, went down the canal’s bank and took charge of the object. It is deeply imbedded in the mud, lifeless now, for its head came off when the king was with it.”

  “Was?”

  “By the time the priests encircled the celestial object, he was gone.”

  Enkullab stood up, then began to pace the bedchamber. “An omen from Heaven, the handiwork of Anu, a most unique and sacred object, has been defiled by my half-brother the king. . . . The wrath of the gods must be aroused!”

  “It’s the will of the gods!” the chief of the guard-priests said. “Would the Holy Father get dressed and come with me to the site?”

  “Yes, of course . . . the site must be consecrated as a place where Heaven touched Earth!” Enkullab said. “Now, tell me again about the object’s falling. At first it appeared headed for the Sacred Precinct, then for the palace?”

  “Indeed so.”

  “And the place where it landed, where exactly is it?”

  “To the north of the palace.”

  “And when the king was gone, did the soldiers go with him?”

  “No, a platoon has stayed behind.”

  “Then let’s not waste time,” the High Priest said. “Take as many priests as you need, and a wagon, and haul the omen to the Sacred Precinct as quickly as possible!”

  “Lest the king’s men do as much?”

  “You’ve grasped it. Now go, hurry! I will dress and follow you right away.”

  “And if the soldiers object?”

  “Invoke the wrath of the gods . . . you’re a priest, aren’t you?”

  * * *

  The approaching dawn had drawn all manner of urchins into the streets leading to the port area, that they might best position themselves for when the merchants, some driving laden asses, began to arrive. Some of these urchins tried to accost Enkidu and the king as they approached, targeting Enkidu in particular as they were fooled by his short stature. However, the smack of his hand or a kick of his foot soon sent them reeling. The two friends hastened their steps, for well they knew that the nearing sunrise could trigger a rush to sail away, for it was the first moment such departures were permitted in the course of the New Year festival.

  As soon as they arrived at the port, at its northern end leading to the Euphrates Canal, they made hurried inquiries as to the whereabouts of Adadel’s boat and were directed to a large cargo vessel equipped with rows of oars and a tall sail. There was hectic activity at the dockside where the boat was tied, and all aboard her seemed awake and busy.

  The comrades contemplated the situation. “We can offer to pay the boat’s master to hide us below deck, among the merchandise,” said Gilgamesh.

  “Hiding invites betrayal,” Enkidu replied. “We will hire ourselves as sailors instead.”

  “By the looks of it, he has all the hands he needs and is ready to cast off soon,” Gilgamesh said.

  “Stay here and I shall attend to the matter,” Enkidu told him.

  Taking a few strides, which were amazingly large for his stature, Enkidu reached the dockside. He accosted one of the men busily taking supplies onboard; a moment later the man fell to the ground and Enkidu dragged him aside. There was another man, untying the ropes that held the ship to the dock; a quick encounter with Enkidu, and he too was silently dragged away. Then Enkidu signaled to Gilgamesh, who came over quickly, and boldly the two stepped aboard, asking for the master, Adadel.

  He was a middle-aged man, his dark hair mostly hidden by a head-cloth, his beard cut to a sharp point in the manner of the Westerners, and he was wearing a garment made of rubbed sheeps’ skins.

  “I need no more men,” Adadel said. “Get off my boat, for we are about to sail.”

  “Not so,” Enkidu said. “You are in need of men, for two of yours have vanished.” Adadel looked at him, puzzled. He surveyed the dock and failed to see his two men. He called out their names, but got no answer. He then took a close look at the shabbily dressed Enkidu and Gilgamesh, pondering the latter’s short stature, wondering what this incident was all about.

  “You doubt our skills?” Enkidu
asked. He stepped to the ropes that tied the boat to the dock and with one pull snapped them loose.

  “I see,” Adadel said. “And what about your companion?”

  Without a word, Gilgamesh went to the side of the boat and with his leg pushed it away from the dock.

  Adadel contemplated them. “The pay is two shekels when we reach the city of Mari,” he informed them. “The crewmaster will give you your assignments.”

  “And the daily rations?” Enkidu asked.

  “And the daily rations,” Adadel agreed.

  Cut off from its moorings, the boat began to drift away from the dock. There were sounds of a commotion coming from the direction of the streets that led uphill from the port area toward the Sacred Precinct. Gilgamesh, a concerned look on his face, stared at Enkidu.

  “Since we are hired, let’s give the captain his shekel’s worth,” Enkidu said, grabbing an oar. With it he pushed the boat through the maze of other moored boats. Gilgamesh, grabbing an oar, did likewise on the boat’s other side. Within moments, the boat was in the center of the wide port canal.

  “Man the oars!” the crewmaster shouted.

  The other men hurried to the rowing seats, grabbing oars. Shouting orders to the rowers, and aided by Enkidu and Gilgamesh on both sides of the boat, Adadel deftly directed his vessel through the confusion of waterborne traffic; it seemed that everyone was leaving at the same time. Shouts and curses were exchanged between captains, and fists were raised in anger. But it was all part of a routine, and in the absence of any mishap no one took the words and gestures seriously.

  Thus maneuvered, the boat left the port area and entered the Euphrates Canal, the man-made waterway that connected the port of Erech with the great river and other waterways and the whole world beyond. The city’s eastern wall was now on their right and its diverse quarters on their left. Though most of the traffic was outbound, there were some inbound boats and rafts, and Enkidu displayed his skill and powers in pushing them away with his long oar. They were now nearing the sluices that guarded the entrance to the canal where it met the city’s wall. Here there was a permanent guard post, for this was a vital military choke point. Quickly, Gilgamesh left his side of the boat and sat down among the oarsmen.